


the girl in the sky (baby, we're flying high)

by saladmander



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Complete, F/F, Fluff, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6033736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saladmander/pseuds/saladmander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lexa has never flown before and the girl sitting next to her is a lifeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the girl in the sky (baby, we're flying high)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by an anon on my tumblr [saladmander](http://saladmander.tumblr.com). I accidentally kept on writing and ended up with this.
> 
> Dedicated to all the incredible people who work so hard to bring us fan content every day for no other reward than seeing other people enjoy their work.

Lexa’s eyes slip closed as she shuffles nervously in her seat. Her knees bump gently into the chair in front of her as they bounce up and down rapidly in an effort to expel some of the nervous energy that seems to have replaced her blood. It flows through her whole body, making her muscles jittery and her mind race. She thinks she might just explode and she’s only been on the damned plane for two minutes.  
  
She wants to scold herself for being such a big, stupid baby about this whole thing. Lexa tries desperately to recall the facts she’d looked up before she left home this morning. She’d finally given in and googled, ‘facts to make you feel better about flying’, and the numbers had been somewhat reassuring at the time. That was all well and good when she was sitting comfortably on her couch at home, but this is an entirely different situation. She tries to draw even one comforting fact she found back into her mind, but nothing comes to her. She sighs heavily and forcibly stills her restless legs.  
  
Resigning herself to another five and a half hours of endless unease, Lexa slips her earphones in and turns up the sound as loud as she can without going deaf. She doesn’t want to see, hear or feel any part of this flight.

A few minutes pass and she wonders how long they’re going to just sit here on the tarmac. Well, at least that’s what she thinks they’re doing, because she still hasn’t opened her eyes. She supposes she’d have felt it if they’d taken off already.  
  
Suddenly her alert senses are acutely aware of someone sitting down beside her. The air around her is suddenly filled with the soft scent of a sweet perfume. She’s momentarily distracted by the intoxicating floral notes but is quickly brought back to reality when she feels the rumble of engines beneath her. Lexa tries not to breathe noticeably deeper and instead focuses on keeping all her muscles still. Blocking everything out is a lot harder in this moment than it normally is for her; maybe it has something to do with the enormous volumes of adrenaline she knows must be coursing through her veins, burning away any potential sense of reason and order.  
  
Lexa feels the moment they begin to move.  
  
She just hopes she doesn’t look as terrified as she is as the plane begins to taxi down the runway, and every wobble of the wings paints another stroke of the vivid image in her head – an image of a flimsy Jell-O plane carrying her and a hundred other screaming people straight into the fiery pits of aviation hell.  
  
Unconsciously tightening her grip on the arm rest, Lexa tries again to just lose herself in her music and forget that she is about to leave the ground for the first time in all her twenty-one years of life.  
  
Just as she fears she might spontaneously burst into flames, Lexa’s fear-induced trance is broken by the slightest nudge against her arm.  
  
Her eyes snap open reflexively and she’s not prepared for the inquisitive pale blue gaze that meets them. She gradually takes in the face surrounding the blue eyes and feels a little flip in her stomach. The girl seated next to her is breathtakingly beautiful – quite literally, Lexa thinks, her breath coming in short gasps. But then again, that could just be due to the fact that the plane is now moving much too fast for her liking and she feels like she’s being crushed back against the seat like she’s a damn astronaut rocketing into outer space.  
  
It takes her a second to realise that the girl’s lips are moving. She quickly shakes herself out of her thoughts and pulls her earphones out.  
  
“What?” she asks dumbly, her terror momentarily forgotten as she meets the girl’s eyes again. Wisps of hair fall from a blonde ponytail to frame a face built with exquisitely delicate features. Lexa’s mouth never quite closes properly after her moronic response to whatever the girl had said.  
  
The blonde smiles slightly and repeats herself. “I asked if you were okay. You look like you’re about to crush that armrest with your bare hands, not to mention the angry-looking man in front of you who keeps turning to glare at your knees.”  
  
Lexa fights down a flush as she realises how obvious her anxiety must be.  
  
She gathers what little shreds of dignity she can and hopes she manages an impassive look.  
  
“I’m fine,” she says, her voice sounding only slightly strained. The other girl just raises her eyebrow and shakes her head.  
  
“I would almost guess you’d never flown before,” she says, and Lexa’s not sure if she’s teasing or being serious. The girl is completely right of course, but Lexa doesn’t intend to broadcast her aeroplane-virgin status to the nearest stranger, even if that stranger does have enchanting blue eyes and the cutest little freckle just above her upper lip. Her _very soft looking upper lip_. Lexa snaps her eyes back up to the blonde’s and swallows before choosing to respond diplomatically.  
  
“I prefer the ground.” There. Nothing wrong with a little equivocation in the right situation.  
  
In the few seconds their exchange has taken, the plane apparently reaches the required velocity for take off because the second Lexa’s words leave her lips, the plane jerks and lifts from the tarmac with about as much grace as a skateboarding giraffe. Well, she’s never seen one of those but she’s sure it wouldn’t be very graceful.  
  
Her eyes slam shut as a fresh wave of dread washes over her and her knuckles turn white with the force of her grip on the armrest. The plane doesn’t feel stable at all and Lexa’s Jell-O plane suddenly doesn’t seem so far from the truth. Her ears are starting to hurt with the pressure change.  
  
She jerks at the feel of a warm hand covering her own and every muscle in her body burns.  
  
“Breathe,” she hears the soft, slightly husky voice next to her say, and she lets out the air she didn’t realise she’d been holding in. Feeling floods her body as she draws a shaky breath, all thoughts of looking tough having flown out the proverbial window when this great lumbering beast left the ground.  
  
Her ears hurt even more now and she feels like she’s at the bottom of a deep pool. She wiggles her jaw a little, instinctively trying to relieve the painful pressure.  
  
Lexa forces her eyes open and her gaze is quickly drawn to where the girl’s hand still rests on top of her own. She feels the tingling heat travel up her arm from where her skin meets the blonde’s and the tremors through her body cease, only to threaten again for an entirely different reason.  
  
The plane’s scarily vertical ascent begins to flatten out and Lexa takes another deep breath, almost thankful that she’d been reminded to do so; she isn’t sure her lungs would have remembered on their own.  
  
As soon as the plane is horizontal again and she no longer feels like she’s being flattened into her seat like a human pancake, a disgruntled frown settles across her features – mostly at herself, if she’s honest. She feels… open and vulnerable. Weak.

  
She doesn’t dare look into the eyes she knows will mock her, intentionally or not, for her unreasonably childish fear. She composes herself quietly, and turns to see the blonde still watching her, an inquiring look on her face. Lexa’s eyes dart nervously to the side, unable to hold her gaze.  
  
She clears her throat and tries to pull her mask of composure back on, but freezes as she realises their hands are still connected. She almost misses the contact when the girl quickly removes her touch at the same realisation, but enjoys the slight flush that creeps onto her cheeks.  
  
Lexa swallows her pride before she speaks. “Thank you, uh-”  
  
“Clarke,” the other girl supplies, and Lexa smiles a little at the unusual name. She doesn’t know why, but she feels like it suits her.  
  
“Lexa,” she says, feeling slightly awkward now that her _episode_ is mostly over. She stumbles over her broken dignity as she speaks her next words. “Sorry… about that.” It’s all she has. She can feel her heart rate decreasing gradually as her body decides that there’s no longer any immediate danger. Her mind isn’t so convinced.  
  
She feels strange, knowing that this girl has just seen her virtually _whimpering_ like a fool but now looks at her with nothing more than fading friendly concern and what she thinks is more than a little interest. _You wish_ , she thinks.  
  
Lexa breaks the short silence. “You were right,” she admits, trying to ensure her face betrays nothing of her now settling inner turmoil. She tries to seem as though the admission doesn’t put another knife in her pride’s back. Clarke blinks.  
  
“About what?”  
  
“I have never flown before.”  
  
Clarke’s eyebrows raise a little before she smiles and nods once.  
  
“I knew that already. Don’t worry, the more you fly the easier it gets to pretend you’re not thousands of feet in the air.”   
  
Lexa can’t help but blanch at Clarke’s words.  
  
“Don’t remind me,” she mumbles, trying desperately to remove the image of a Jell-O plane flopping about in the stratosphere from her mind. It’s the dumbest image she’s ever invented, but somehow this plane doesn’t feel quite solid enough for her liking.  
  
“Sorry. I guess I’m used to flying. But I used to be terrified when I was a kid. If you’d asked me then, I would have said the sky was for birds, and birds alone. And maybe aliens.” Lexa fights a smile at the image of a little blonde girl clutching the seat as hard as she had just been, waiting for the stomach-dropping feeling of take off to pass completely.  
  
“I agree with the younger you. I mean, not that I was really scared, but…” Lexa groans internally at her idiocy. Why is she even trying to defend herself? She’s such a pansy when it comes to even the _idea_ of planes. Somehow she’s managed to avoid the real thing until now.  
  
Lexa doesn’t really know how to fix this situation, so she just turns her head and looks out the window. Another mistake. She can see the lines of roads and fields and tiny houses on the distant ground, growing smaller and smaller as she climbs higher and higher. It makes her a little sick. She wants to close her eyes and just sleep for the next few hours, but she simply continues staring through the layers of glass and plastic to the miniature world outside this weird human sky-capsule as though the sight doesn’t affect her in the least. She’s good at that. Pretending.  
  
They sit in silence for a few minutes until the little seatbelt icon turns off with a ding and she hears Clarke unclipping hers. Lexa doesn’t really want to take hers off at all – just in case – but she tentatively reaches for the buckle anyway. She isn’t going to sit here looking like a complete dope the whole time.  
  
She sees Clarke grinning in her peripheral vision and inclines her head slightly to look at the blonde. She lets the question fill her eyes. _What?_ she asks wordlessly.  
  
“Nothing.” The girl shakes her head, the smile still on her lips. Clarke’s reply irritates her, but as she looks into those sparkling eyes the colour of the sky right outside her little window, she can’t hold on to it. She resists the urge to roll her eyes and instead picks up her phone and looks through the books she downloaded last night – something to distract her from the reality of being in the sky. She’s careful to keep her screen on an angle that prevents Clarke from reading anything on it. If another human being on this planet were to discover that she, Lexa Woods, reads books about ladies falling in love with each other, she would throw herself into the nearest active volcano. So no, she doesn’t want the beautiful girl beside her seeing the screen.

  
She’s lines away from a long-awaited kiss when she’s interrupted by another tap on her arm. She looks at Clarke with one eyebrow raised as if to ask, _what do you want?  
_  
“Would you like anything to eat or drink, miss?” Her head snaps up to find the source of the new voice, and she’s met with a young woman in a hostess uniform standing next to a cart filled with cans of drink, small bottles of alcohol, and likely-stale biscuits, among other things. Lexa glances over it quickly. She doesn’t see anything even remotely appetising on any shelf and simply shakes her head, turning back to her book.  
  
She feels more than hears Clarke sigh next to her. Her senses were on red alert earlier simply due to the fact that she might have died, but now every nerve ending seems highly sensitised to the girl next to her. She tries desperately to ignore it.  
  
“I’ll have two waters, a large packet of Pringles, one chicken sandwich and one ham sandwich.” Lexa stiffens as Clarke’s words reached her ears. She looks over at her and is unable to keep the glare off her face. Unless Clarke has two stomachs or this flight is twice as long as she thought it was, that food is for her. She’s immensely irritated that she hasn’t been consulted on these food choices, but how angry can she really get when a kind stranger is ordering food for her?  
  
Lexa settles a subtle scowl across her face and gives the back of Clarke’s head what she hopes is a discouraging look. But the blonde doesn’t turn from the hostess – who, incidentally, is totally giving Clarke flirty eyes which Lexa thinks are entirely disgusting – and instead simply pays for the items and places them all on her lap.  
  
“What did you do that for?” Lexa asks, trying not to sound rude.  
  
“For later. In case you get hungry. No use sitting there tense _and_ starving. I know that snacks always made me feel better when I was scared.” Clarke gives her an innocent look, as though she’s done nothing wrong. And Lexa can’t decide whether she even _has_ done anything wrong. In fact, as the seconds pass, Lexa feels her annoyance ebb and be replaced by a warm feeling of—she’s not sure what it is, but it only makes her frown harder. She supposes she should thank Clarke. Again.  
  
“I’m not hungry, so you will have to eat it all yourself.” She silently berates herself for sounding so ungrateful.  
  
Clarke simply shrugs. “Whatever you say.” She pulls down the tray from the back of the seat in front of her and dumps the stuff unceremoniously onto it. Lexa begins to go back to her book, but her eyes surreptitiously follow Clarke as she reaches down to the small bag at her feet and pulls out a book. Actually, on closer inspection she sees that it’s a sketchpad, and it looks well worn. Lexa is surprised for a moment, but then continues to feign disinterest and moves her eyes unseeingly across her phone screen.  
  
She hears as a pencil is tapped gently on the blank page and wonders what Clarke will draw. Well, she assumes that Clarke is going to draw. Either that or she likes to write without lines, but no one likes to do that.  
  
She’s just starting to really read again when the soft scraping of lead on paper reaches her ears. She’s so tempted to shift her eyes across and peek at Clarke’s work, but she resists. She doesn’t know where on Earth she’s getting this will power, or for that matter where _far above_ the Earth, but she forces her eyes to read line after line of this ridiculously sappy scene. She’s so distracted she doesn’t even register that the two characters of her book are virtually naked in a pool. She gets to the end of the page and realises that she hasn’t _really_ read a single word.  
  
She sighs softly and finally lets her eyes drift towards the sketchbook in Clarke’s busy hands. Her mouth forms a slight ‘o’ shape when she sees the scene coming to life on the paper.  
  
She watches for what must be almost ten minutes Clarke breaks her reverie.  
  
“You know, it’s really hard to draw with you staring like that.”  
  
Lexa blinks but doesn’t move her gaze. She’s mesmerised by the lines that flow through Clarke’s hand, into the pencil and out onto the page. Each one gives another breath of life to the picture. She _physically can’t_ look away.  
  
“You seem to be doing fine to me,” she responds, unable to keep the awe from tinging her voice. Clarke looks up from her work and gives the Lexa a smile that almost stops the brunette’s heart. God, the girl is dazzling.  
  
She’s back to work quickly though and the scene grows and deepens until Lexa almost feels like she’s standing right there, in the trees, looking out towards the tranquil lake and the towering mountains beyond. She’s absolutely captivated.  
  
Clarke seems to notice her shameless fixation.  
  
“It’s a view from a place not far my mom’s house in New York State. I love sitting right here by the lake and looking out over the water,” she explains softly, pointing to a patch of grass by the water’s edge. “It’s so peaceful.” The warmth in the blonde’s tone doesn’t go unnoticed by Lexa, who feels a smile tug at the corners of her lips.  
  
“If the place is half as beautiful in real life as it is in your drawing, then seeing it is going on my bucket list.” Lexa wants to punch herself in the face a little bit, but she can’t help feeling a rush of pleasure when Clarke’s smile widens. Who knew she had a complimentary streak in her?  
  
Clarke shrugs. “I’m not fantastic, but it helps me relax. I like losing myself in whatever or whoever I’m drawing.” She looks almost uncomfortable at having revealed something so personal, but Lexa simply nods towards her drawing.  
  
“You are fantastic, Clarke. Don’t sell yourself short.” She revels in the sweet click of Clarke’s name on her lips. Lexa suddenly _needs_ her to know how incredible she is. She smiles and says earnestly, “I’m not easily impressed, but that has to be the best drawing I have seen in my whole life.”  
  
Clarke blushes slightly and Lexa loves it.  
  
“Well you mustn’t have seen many then. It’s just a hobby.”  
  
“It could be a job. Modesty is futile – you are incredible.” This time it’s Lexa’s turn to feel the heat in her cheeks. “Incredibly talented,” she amends swiftly.  
Clarke laughs softly and thanks her, but the air of shyness that surrounded her when she began drawing doesn’t let up.  
  
Lexa can’t help but want to keep talking to Clarke. Something about her just makes Lexa forget where they are that there’s a world far below this plane. It’s nice.  
  
“So is that where you’re going? To visit your mom?”  
  
Her question draws a look of mild surprise from Clarke, perhaps at the fact that the previously surly Lexa seems to want to continue the conversation. Lexa doesn’t blame her; she hasn’t exactly been super friendly for most of the hour or so they’ve been in the air.  
  
Clarke smiles before replying. “Yeah, she’s all by herself out there in the mountains. Apart from chatting to her patients, she doesn’t have much of a social life. I try to visit her a few times a year.”  
  
Lexa drinks in the information like a desert plant in the first rain after months of drought. Every word that comes out of Clarke’s mouth is a balm to her nerves, and she wants to know more.  
  
“She’s a doctor?”  
  
“Yeah, in Indian Lake. It’s a tiny town in the Adirondacks. She has a little place next to the lake. It’s lovely around this time of year.”  
  
Lexa thinks how much she would love to see the place that has the blonde so enraptured. Maybe on her next vacation she could spend some time hiking in the mountains.  
  
“Did you grow up there?”  
  
Clarke shakes her head and smiles ruefully.  
  
“No, I grew up in California. My mom moved there a few years ago to escape the city.” Lexa notices the conspicuous lack of a father in Clarke’s story. She doesn’t dwell on it because it’s obvious it’s not something Clarke wants to bring up. She just nods and tells her that she grew up in California, too. “Yeah? So what are you doing flying all the way out to New York? Family, friends? Work?” Clarke seems genuinely interested in the answer, so Lexa shrugs and replies.  
  
“I’m staying at my aunt’s place in New York City. She’s about to be deployed and she lives alone, so I’m going to look after her apartment while she’s away. And her dog.”  
  
Clarke’s eyes widen at her answer.  
  
“Wow. Alone in New York. You’re brave,” Clarke says. Not in the ways I wish, Lexa thinks. “Are you going to work while you’re there?”  
  
“Yes.” When the blonde keeps looking at her expectantly she just sighs but the tiniest of smiles breaks onto her lips. “I teach martial arts, mostly to kids.” She isn’t used to people wanting her to elaborate about herself. Clarke looks like she loves this new piece of information and it would weird Lexa out how much this girl was getting out of her if she weren’t so curious herself. “I’ve been doing Taekwondo and Jujitsu since I was five.”  
  
“Well, I’ll be sure not to get on your bad side then,” Clarke says with faux concern that’s quickly surpassed by a grin.  
  
Lexa’s chest grows tight and she hates that she feels this way. For whatever reason, this girl has barrelled past her defences and situated herself there beneath Lexa’s ribs. (It can’t be in her heart, no. Lexa’s not sure she has one.)  
  
Her eyes drift over Clarke’s in the moment of silence and she wonders how anyone can not drown in the blue depths that threaten to drag her down and leave her gasping for air. She shakes her head softly.  
  
“Somehow I don’t think you could.”  
  
Clarke stares at her with a look Lexa can’t quite place before blinking slowly and shifting her gaze back down the forgotten sketch.  
  
“Have you ever thought about selling your art?” Lexa asks.  
  
“Not really. I’ve always just drawn for me, really. I want to do an art major in college, maybe study animation. My mom’s not so sure.”  
  
Lexa knows the feeling. The fear of disappointing a loved one. The fear that they might know better than you after all. The fear that what you want isn’t enough.  
  
“But you are?”  
  
“Yes. There’s nothing else I really _want_ to do.”  
  
“Then do it.” Lexa’s words are matter of fact.  
  
Clarke lets out a small laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”  
  
“It is. You have a gift. Use it. Share it.”  
  
Clarke’s eyes are even softer than before when she looks back at Lexa.  
  
“Thanks,” she almost whispers. Lexa is halfway drowning again when Clarke turns away quickly and closes her sketch book, exhaling a puff of air. “Hungry? I’m starving all of a sudden.”  
  
Lexa doesn’t lie. “I am actually a little bit hungry,” she says quietly.  
  
“Well then, good thing I got extra, hey?”  
  
Lexa doesn’t like taking from other people. She doesn’t like being dependent on others. But she’s hungry and Clarke bought food for her and she couldn’t resist anything the other girl offered her as long as she did it with that smile and those bright eyes.  
  
“Thank you, Clarke.” Lexa looks away as Clarke hands her a sandwich and a bottle of water. “I’m sorry I was so rude before. That said, you didn’t have to do this, you know. At least let me pay you for it.”  
  
Clarke takes a bite, chews and swallows before speaking.  
  
“Not a chance, buddy. It was like, five dollars. I wanted to. Besides, I know it was just because you were terrified for your life. The stress would make anyone understandably grumpy. I forgive you,” she says and pats Lexa’s hand to make her point.  
  
_That and the fact that I wanted to stop getting lost in your eyes_ , Lexa thinks. _Jesus_ , when did she become such a sap? J _ust eat the damn sandwich, Woods._ Lexa takes a bite and is pleased to find that it’s not too bad.  
  
The two eat in silence for a while, and when they finish, Clarke opens the pringles and places the packet between them. The blonde snacks absent-mindedly as she pulls out her sketchpad and begins to draw again. Lexa decides she should go back to her reading. She opens her book and tries not to think about how good the girl next to her smells or how she can feel the soft warmth radiating from her skin, their arms almost touching. She certainly doesn’t think about the way Clarke bites her pink bottom lip in concentration.

  
She’s not sure how much time has passed, but she hasn’t thought about Clarke in, oh, say… thirty-three seconds? She sighs and looks at the flight path on the little screen in front of her. They only have an hour and a half to go. _How the heck has it already been three hours?_ Lexa slumps back in her seat a little, and her eyes finally flicker back to Clarke, who is still sketching. Lexa stops.  
  
It’s her. There on the page, in elegant strokes of lead and gentle shading is her face. Her neck follows into the slope of her shoulders and Lexa is sure she’s never looked that good in real life.  
  
Clarke must sense that Lexa has noticed and turns sheepishly to face her subject.  
  
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”  
  
Lexa is still frozen solid, her eyes wide. “That’s me.”  
  
“Well, yeah. I just… I thought you would make a beautiful drawing,” Clarke says, only a trace of apology in her voice. “I was right.”  
  
Lexa’s mouth opens and closes a little like a fish and she struggles with how to respond. She feels a warmth bloom in her chest (just where she thinks a heart should be) and that warmth spreads up over her neck and into her cheeks. She’s blushed more in the last few hours than in the rest of her twenty years of life combined. She finally finds her voice.  
  
“That doesn’t look like me,” she says weakly. The girl on the page looks too soft. She looks too kind. Her eyes are too full and open and vulnerable.  
  
( _It looks exactly like her._ )  
  
“Like I said, just a hobby,” Clarke says, quick to drop her smile and close her sketchpad over. Lexa stops her before she can put it away, her heart wrenching at Clarke’s disappointment.  
  
“Clarke,” she says, the name a plea, a prayer, “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean—I mean that it’s too beautiful to be me. That girl on your page is… she is lovely.”  
  
Clarke gives her a searching look.  
  
“You really don’t know, do you?” She says, the tiniest smile on her lips.  
  
“What?” Lexa is lost and Clarke’s eyes are an unhelpful map that’s taking her further into the unknown.  
  
“How beautiful you are.”  
  
Lexa’s heartbeat flickers. “Clarke, I—”  
  
“Don’t try to argue with me. I have an artist’s eye. An eye for beauty.”  
  
Lexa’s wide eyes blink a few times. It’s supposed to take more than four hours to fall in love, right? But what the hell does she know.  
  
She settles on the least dangerous response and hopes it will stop Clarke from trying to send her to an early grave. Her heart is slamming its way out of her chest and her mind is racing.  
  
“Thank you, Clarke.” Her voice is shy and she feels like Clarke is looking straight through her.  
  
Clarke just smiles with a look of genuine affection that Lexa nearly misses because she’s looking down at her fidgeting hands. Clarke takes another Pringle and finishes putting her sketchbook away. She reaches over Lexa (who is instantly overwhelmed again by how _good_ she smells) as she peeks under the little window visor. Lexa sees that they’ve flown into the night and the dark sky stretches above them and below them. Their flight is scheduled to land at 10:28 EST and she feels detached from the time outside the window. Her body is on LA time and her mind is on plane time, the artificial light levels and steady, too-cool temperature giving her no cues as to the real passage of time. It’s making her kind of tired, really.  
  
The cabin is dim enough that she sees the twinkle of stars outside the window. Clarke shuts the visor and sits back in her seat. There’s a beat before she speaks.  
  
“What’s your favourite colour?” the blonde asks. Lexa is surprised into answering right away.  
  
“Blue.” (That’s never been her answer before this moment. If someone had asked her yesterday, she would probably have said red.)  
  
Clarke nods. “I like blue, but somehow green has always been the most beautiful to me. You know, the colour of grass and trees and life.” Do Clarke’s eyes flicker between her own, or does she imagine it? “Favourite animal?”  
  
“Uh, racoon.”  
  
“Racoon?”  
  
“Clever, fluffy, and generally underrated. And they have an enviable smoky eye look.” Lexa’s not sure why she’s still answering these questions, and with such shamefully honest answers.  
  
“Okay. Dogs are mine.” Lexa can see that. “Favourite city?”  
  
“Vienna.”  
  
“Paris. Cliché, I know. But have you seen their art collection? They have more galleries than I could visit in my life.” Clarke is so passionate that Lexa has to smile.  
  
“I’ve never been.”  
  
“Well, the city is kind of strange but I love its quirks. I’ve only been once with—” Clarke stops and swallows almost imperceptibly. Lexa sees the change in her eyes. “With my dad. When I was fourteen. Mom went to conference in London, so my dad took me to Paris. It was my favourite summer ever, just for those two weeks.”  
  
Lexa senses something beneath Clarke’s expression and her words but she doesn’t dare ask. She doesn’t know what to say, really, so she keeps Clarke’s question game going.  
  
“Favourite season.”  
  
Clarke smiles again. “Spring. More green than any other time of year. And lots of baby animals.”  
  
“I like fall. It’s such a quiet time of year, like everything is going to sleep for a while.”  
  
“That’s a nice way to look at it. How about…” Clarke taps her chin in thought. It’s cute. “Tea or coffee?”  
  
“Tea. Helps me fall asleep.”  
  
“Coffee, for the exact opposite reason,” Clarke says with a small laugh.  
  
They’re interrupted by the disgustingly flirtatious ( _What?_ Lexa thinks heart eyes are gross. She never makes them herself.) hostess who offers them a choice of drinks and snacks again. Lexa doesn’t want anything and luckily this time Clarke doesn’t try to undermine her refusal. Clarke gets an apple juice and sips it absently and Lexa excuses herself to the bathroom. She struggles past Clarke's legs and accidentally brushes her hand against the blonde's stomach in a bid to reach the aisle. She's flustered by the time she manages to disentangle herself and sighs as she starts towards the middle of the plane.  
  
Her legs protest initially but she’s glad for the stretch as she feels the fluid begin to move in her extremities again. She discovers, much to her disappointment, that the tiny cubicle is even worse than she expected a plane bathroom to be. But she bundles herself in and has trouble finding the right buttons for everything. There are so many little compartments. _What the hell does that little symbol even mean?_ She grumbles the whole time and can’t help but look herself over in the crappy little mirror. She looks vaguely like she’s been on a plane for four and a half hours (funny that) and she sighs and redoes her hair in a messy bun. She rubs the tired circles under her eyes and finds herself wishing she’d met Clarke when she was less stressed and tired and vulnerable. But then again, would she have given the girl her time? Or would she have run? She’s pretty sure she knows the answer.  
  
As she heads back to her seat, she realises that she hasn’t really thought about the fact that she’s thirty thousand feet in the air. Her stomach churns as she thinks about it but as she looks at Clarke, sitting there and sipping her juice, reading one of the in-flight magazines, she feels a wave of calm wash over her. She’s fine. They’re fine. Everything’s okay. Clarke is calm. Lexa can relax.  
  
It’s strange, the feeling that replaces her anxiety. Looking at a girl she met only a few hours before should not have that effect. But it does. Lexa works hard to quash an anxiety of a different kind.  
  
_It’s okay._  
  
She feels good about letting herself feel that. It’s a first.  
  
She doesn’t interrupt Clarke after she blunders her way to the window seat again, instead opting to listen to some music. She lays her head back against the seat and lets Halsey’s voice fill her senses.  
  
She’s woken an indeterminate amount of time later by a soft voice.  
  
“Lexa, Lexa wake up,” it says. It’s a nice voice and Lexa groans an wriggles a little. Her neck feels like it’s been in the same position for a week. When the angelic voice repeats her name, she cracks an eye open and blushes wildly when she realises she’s fallen asleep – on Clarke’s shoulder, no less. She all but leaps away from the other girl, trying to get her red cheeks under control as she apologises profusely.  
  
“Clarke, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall aslee—”  
  
She doesn’t finish because Clarke puts her index finger over Lexa’s lips and she couldn’t have spoken even if she had wanted to because she is suddenly holding her breath.  
  
“No apologising, please,” she says as she removes her finger (Lexa misses it when it’s gone) and smiles. “You looked tired and if I made sleeping on a plane less crappy in any way, I’m glad I could help.” She smirks. “Besides, you looked cute and I couldn’t bring myself to wake you until I had to.” A small furrow appears on Lexa’s brow momentarily, but her unspoke question is answered when an announcement comes over the loudspeaker.  
  
“ _Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to begin our descent. Please stow your tables and footrests and fasten your seatbelts. Crew, prepare the cabin for landing_.”  
  
Lexa’s eyebrows raise of their own accord. She’s done it. A whole flight without any life-threatening turbulence or crashes. She’s flown thousands of miles in a few hours and lived to tell the tale. Well, that is assuming they land alright. She doesn’t think about that and instead focusses on the girl beside her who, somehow, has managed to keep Lexa sane for the last five hours. She wonders how unbearable the flight would have been without her. Maybe she should ask Clarke to come along every time she flies. She watches as the altitude on the flight path screen slowly begins to drop. Her ears start to pop every twenty seconds.  
  
“So, Lexa,” Clarke begins, “is your aunt picking you up at the airport?” Clarke is fidgeting and Lexa watches her fingers distractedly.  
  
“Yes. Your mother is picking you up, I assume.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
There’s a prolonged silence as both girls consider the fact that this is probably their last twenty minutes together. The unspoken reluctance to part hangs heavy in the air as it sinks in that Lexa will go with her aunt and Clarke with her mom and they will be nothing more than two strangers who met on a plane to New York and somehow ended up exchanging parts of themselves.  
  
The force of the realisation that she wants to be part of Clarke’s life for longer than five hours is almost physical. Lexa knows it’s now or never. She’s not sure what she expects, or what Clarke wants or even what _she_ wants, really. But she knows that somehow, the thought of never seeing this girl again is indescribably sad. So for the first time in her life, she jumps in.  
  
“You should come and visit me in the city sometime. I mean, if you want to,” she says, her words imperfect and shaky as they’ve ever been.  
  
And Clarke looks at her like she hung the moon and Lexa feels the warmth again but this time it’s in all of her, in every part of her body. She feels positively _happy_.  
  
“I would love to, Lexa.” Clarke’s grin is nearly blinding. “And hey, maybe you can visit me in the mountains and cross that view off your bucket list.”  
  
Lexa’s smile is small but it’s mirrored tenfold in her eyes.  
  
“Maybe I will.”  
  
They look at each other for what seems an eternity to Lexa. It's probably no more than five seconds but every second is ten when you’re drowning. And she is.  
  
The plane dips to only a few hundred feet and Lexa’s stomach knots a little. Despite everything, she still feels the adrenaline begin to seep into her muscles.  
  
Buts somehow Clarke just knows and Lexa looks down the second the blonde’s hand takes hers. She tries to ignore the soft strokes of Clarke’s thumb over her knuckles. She barely registers when the plane touches the tarmac and slows so quickly it should be impossible, because the only thing she can focus on is the warmth of the hand around her own and the steady rhythm of Clarke’s thumb. Her entire world has been reduced to their joined hands and she’s okay with it. Neither feels the need to speak.  
  
Clarke holds her hand until the plane stops moving and the seatbelt sign turns off with a ding. Lexa’s light flush is all that’s left when Clarke lets go and unbuckles herself, packing her stuff back into her bag. Lexa does the same and somehow she doesn’t think about the fact that she’s in New York, on the other side of the country, about to move into her aunt’s apartment. All she can think is that her time with Clarke is running out.  
  
“ _Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying with us. Local time in New York is 10:30 pm and temperature is 56 degrees Fahrenheit. We hope to see you again soon_.”  
  
Silently, they exit the plane with the rest of the passengers and head through the extendable walkway into the terminal. They pass through security quickly and soon they’re heading to the arrivals gate with their luggage from the carousels.  
  
It’s a strange feeling, not wanting to leave the side of someone you met only a few hours before. Feeling that somehow your sanity is inextricable from their presence and yet you’ve never known before that you needed it.  
  
Clarke sees her mom before Lexa can spot Anya. Clarke turns to her and in her eyes is the mirror of what must surely be spilling from Lexa’s.  
  
“Well, I guess this is goodbye.”  
  
“Yes,” Lexa says with a swallow, “ I suppose it is.”  
  
“My mom is just over there,” she gestures behind her with her thumb and makes to move in that direction, her eyes still locked on Lexa. She half turns before a thought hits her and she comes rushing back and rummages in her backpack for something. She finally produces a pen and grabs Lexa’s hand. She stops and looks up, seeming to ask for permission. Lexa knows what she wants and nods. Clarke prints a line of numbers neatly across the brunette’s hand and it’s a lifeline for them both.  
  
Clarke caps her pen and looks up at her with the same sparkling blue eyes Lexa had unwittingly fallen into only hours ago. She’s staggeringly beautiful.  
  
“Don’t be a stranger, okay? I’m serious.” She drops Lexa’s hand and deliberates for only a second before leaning in to place a quick kiss on her cheek. It’s over before Lexa registers it and Clarke is already moving off with her suitcase. “Bye, Lexa,” she says with a slight wave. Lexa watches, frozen on the spot, as the girl practically runs to meet her mom and hugs her tightly.  
  
She smiles and tears her gaze away from the sight, trying to control her blush for the millionth time that evening. It’s only a few seconds before she sees Anya, whose smirk tells Lexa she saw the whole exchange. She just scowls in return and heads over to her aunt, who greets her with the teasing she would expect. (Lexa won’t admit that she loves Anya’s brash cheerfulness, as much as it might grate on her at times.)  
  
Fifteen minutes later, they’re in the car and on their way to Anya’s place.  
  
“So, who was the girl?”  
  
“Just someone I met on the plane. She was sitting next to me.”  
  
“I have to admit, I’m impressed. I didn’t expect you to come off that flight with a girlfriend. A suitcase and sore legs, maybe.” Lexa rolls her eyes.  
  
“She gave me her number. That’s all.”  
  
“What are you going to do with it?”  
  
Lexa shrugs. “Don’t know.”  
  
Anya just laughs.  
  
(Lexa knows.)

 

 **Lexa (23:34):** Hi, I hope this is Clarke from the plane. It’s Lexa. Just wanted to say thanks again. You made my first time flying less terrible than I expected.  
  
**Clarke (23:36):** it is, and you’re welcome :p definitely the best flight i’ve had in a while  
  
**Lexa (23:37):** Glad to hear it. Get home safely, Clarke. I hope you have a good time with your mom.  
  
**Clarke (23:40):** will do, hope nyc treats you well  
  
**Lexa (00:19):** Just got to my aunt’s place. Start of my adventure. Good night, Clarke.  
  
**Clarke (00:20):** night, Lexa :)


End file.
